


Blossoming

by LadyLarkFrand



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Gen, M/M, Omega!Gladio, One-Sided Attraction, Presentations, Puberty, Unrequited Love, a/b/o dynamics, alpha!Noctis, if any at all, omega!ignis, one-sided promnis, relationships to be decided, whoops there are feels wtf
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-29
Updated: 2017-10-29
Packaged: 2018-10-29 13:37:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10855089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyLarkFrand/pseuds/LadyLarkFrand
Summary: Puberty sucks, and like death, it comes for everyone. Even Princes and their loyal friends.A.K.A a presentation story about the chocobros.





	1. Ignis

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so, foolish, foolish me, I accidentally deleted this story under the influence of me medication. -stares into the void- But that is neither here nor there, so here's this story again! xD

Ignis prided himself on his essentially spotless record. At seventeen, he’d missed barely a handful of days due to personal reasons. It was something he viciously reminded anyone who commented on his young age or made snide remarks about the work ethics of the younger members of the meeting.

It was why he’d been reluctant to let himself dwell on how he’d felt physically. His pride, was a weakness of his. 

He’d woken up with a head-ache behind his eyes and a tenderness about his skin that had made him groan softly as he’d stood. His joints ached and his eyes felt dry. 

The fact that he had felt far too large for his own skin had done very little to soothe his already agitated nerves as he gone about his morning routine. He hadn’t been able to recall if he’d felt worse or better the evening previous, and he supposed it didn’t matter in the end. 

By time he was halfway through his second meeting of the day, a meeting with the delegation from what was left of Galahd, Ignis regretted not calling in sick far more than he had earlier that same morning. 

His clothes felt like they were scraping his skin raw. Which was ridiculous, he knew, they were made of nothing but the highest quality of materials. 

Yet it didn’t stop his hands from occasionally reaching up to tug at the collar of his shirt, or to adjust the way his cuffs pressed against his wrists. The vest he wore beneath his blazer felt as if it were crushing his ribs and the tie about his throat strangling him like a viper. 

Worse yet, the sounds of voices in the great meeting hall sounded like a cacophony of pure and meaningless noise.

It made his teeth itch in a manner that was entirely unbecoming of a person in his position. His temper was made no better by the looks that were cast his way due to his fidgeting. Truly, Ignis wanted to either demand they say something or to merely vanish from the meeting hall all together. 

His stomach also rolled slowly and Ignis could do nothing but think of the stomach bug that had befallen Prompto and then taken Noctis down the week prior. He did not have time to be sick. Yet the feeling of potential fever baking under his skin made him think that his body did not care in the slightest for what he had time for. 

By time the meetings which his schedule had him sitting in on had been paused for lunch, Ignis thought he might merely rather prefer dying than to do anything else. He had thought the noise of refined voices speaking on details that were surely important was unbearable, the smells of the palace made his stomach twist yet more violently. 

He’d barely made it to the bathroom and into a stall before he’d lost his breakfast. He’d ended up on his knees, the bitter taste of bile in his mouth and shivering. He held his glasses in one hand, and clenched his eyes desperately against the nausea that welled up in him. 

It felt like a monumental effort to pull his phone from his pocket, and fire off a quiet text to his uncle to inform him that he had fallen ill to the virus that had been going around. 

The last thing he recalled was closing his eyes against the brightness of the restroom, and wishing that he was either dead or, at the very least, unconscious.

***

“ Iggy,” a voice called, “ c’mon Ignis, wake up.” 

There was a hand on his shoulder, gently shaking him awake. Ignis groaned softly and wished he had the energy to bat the hand off of him. It was too heavy and too warm to be comforting. He managed to open one eye, and found that he was still in the men’s restroom. 

Fantastic. He groaned softly. 

That same person chuckled quietly, and gently grabbed his arm. 

He turned his head upwards, nose tucked into the hollow of the other man’s jaw and inhaled. The chuckle the action produced gave away identity as much as the familiar scent did. 

Gladiolus. 

Ignis was sure his relief must have been palatable. Gladio was his friend, one of his closest. It was good that it was the future Shield, because Ignis wasn’t sure that there was anyone else who could manage to haul him to his feet the way the other teen did. 

“ How?” he managed, blinking blearily at the older teen. He hadn’t exactly broadcast his location to everyone he knew. He wasn’t sure his question got through, even as he leaned harder into the broad chest of his friend. 

He was thankful that the Shield seemed to have some idea of what he meant as he wrapped an arm around Ignis supportively. 

“ Trial and error,” Gladio replied, “ your uncle flagged me down and mentioned you had said something about a stomach bug so I made some guesses.” 

His uncle, of course. 

Ignis grunted, and as they stood, well Ignis wobbled, his head pressed against the bigger teen’s shoulder. It was warm, and Ignis rubbed his cheek against it which produced yet another laugh. He frowned at the sound, still shivering despite the warmth that rolled off of Gladio. 

“ You’re laughing at me while I’m ill, “ he mumbled, “don’t think I’ll forget it.” 

Gladio snorted and tightened his grip around Ignis’ waist. He leaned against him gratefully, and hoped that it wouldn’t set the other’s balance off too much. 

“ The way you smell? You aren’t ‘sick’ Iggy.” 

There was a softness to Gladio’s words that made Ignis wish to question him further, to demand answers. If he wasn’t ill, then just what would Gladio classify his nausea, fever and such as? 

He wanted to open his mouth and tell his friend just that, sneer the words at him or dryly ask it. It seemed like so much effort though, not to mention he didn’t think that Gladio would particularly enjoy if Ignis dry-heaved against him.

Ignis hummed and closed his eyes again. 

Carefully Gladio guided him down the hall-way, through the servants’ corridors, out of sight of those who might ask probing and uncomfortable questions. It was slow going, and that only made his anxiety to get back behind private and closed doors all the more urgent. 

He let his mind drift until the familiar scent of himself slapped him in the face as Gladio opened the door to his small and tidy apartment that he kept within the walls of the Citadel. It made something in him unclench and he sighed audibly even as Gladio helped him through his living-room and down the short hallway to his bedroom. 

It wasn’t until he felt his shoes being removed that it seemed to dawn on him, his friend’s wording. ‘Smell’, he’d said, as if it’d been the most obvious thing in the world. 

Ignis drew in a deeper breath, trying to taste the air. He smelled nothing but home and safety. His bed was soft below him, and the blankets familiar and his.

‘Smell’, Ignis thought. Smell had a great deal to do with their world, but the comment combined with his own age made something very clear to him. He should have thought of it before.

Most people presented as either alpha, beta, or omega through their later teen years. Gladio, who was eighteen to his seventeen, had done so two years previously. Though the teen had declined to share the results with Ignis himself. 

Ignis stared at his ceiling, and noted that his glasses were missing. 

“ I thought you were exaggerating,” he stated casually, and tilted his head so he could see Gladio, who had been in the middle of placing his shoes in the closet with some care. Not in the spot they belonged but close enough. 

Gladio looked over his shoulder, and Ignis wondered if he surprised his friend with his coherence. 

There was a beat of silence before Gladio shrugged. 

“ Presentations always suck,” he said with the air of someone who’d gone through the process before, “ You’re lucky you didn’t work your way through today though, way you smell.” 

Ignis frowned. 

“ And just how do I smell to you, Gladio?” He sounded defensive and challenging to his own ears. He couldn’t bring himself to be embarrassed about it. 

Gladio paused and eyed Ignis as he turned from the closet, attempted to shut it quietly Ignis imagined. It seemed as loud as a gunshot in the dark quietness of his room. He didn’t answer right away, and in his silence Ignis felt his anxiety increase. 

They both knew what he was asking, and as Ignis was unable to smell himself, Gladio was the only one who could answer his question.

“ It’s too early to tell,” Gladio started as he edged towards the door of the bedroom, “ but you smell kinda sharp-sweet to me, like a punch in the nose.” He seemed almost embarrassed and that was odd. Gladio was never embarrassed. 

The fact that he was bold and challenging was something that Ignis found both admirable and frustrating at the same time. 

Ignis turned his head away, and processed the information. Sharp-sweet. Sweet. Omegas smelled sweet, supposedly, mostly during heats. For some reason, that information made a dull sort of horror settle in his chest. 

Ignis Scientia, Chief Steward to the Prince, and potential Omega. He knew, logically, that the presentations represented within one’s family were important. He knew, also, that his family had carried the gene for ‘omega’ for generations. 

His grandmother had been one. His father had been an alpha though, and his mother a beta. A recessive gene mash-up, could easily ruin his life. Ignis had never been one to fantasize about what he might be, when he’d been a child. 

Outwardly. 

He’d dreamed though, as anyone did. He’d have been happy to settle as a beta, no different from anyone else, and no pesky and distracting thoughts or situations. 

Ignis had also had his moments where he’d dreamed he’d be an alpha, a striking figure as his father had been. He and Gladio had based many of their training sessions on the idea of being Alphas, and fighting and all other stupid, childish stereotypes. 

It had been arrogant, he thought, that he had never spent much time thinking of what his life would become if he became neither Beta or Alpha. ‘Omega’ was a word that loomed over everything else. He could not imagine being forced to subcumb to the whims of his body twice a year. 

It sounded horrifying as it did embarrassing. Perhaps that was a reason that scent and orientation hiding were as pronounced in Insomnia as it was. Beyond the Wall, he knew it was far less liberal. 

A dull ache built in his gut, and Ignis groaned softly in discomfort. Another wave of exhaustion swept over him, and he decided that he could mourn later. He felt his eyes growing heavy again, and he heard Gladio make a soft sound. 

“ Get some sleep, you’re gonna need it Igs.”

Ignis thought of a reply, but by time it reached his tongue, sleep had all but claimed him.

***

The next time Ignis awoke, he didn’t have the first idea of what time it was. It was either late or early, for no light streamed in through his windows. He blinked against his pillow and wished he were unconscious again. 

He moaned into his pillow. 

There was a weight around his hips and over the small of his back. It felt as if someone had his bones in their grip and sought to bend them or break them. 

Ignis realized belatedly he was also shivering, almost violently. Yet he felt no chill, only a heat that seemed to press in from all sides, no matter how many layers of clothing he shed in an attempt to cool himself. 

He desperately sought to remember what he had learned of Firsts. Regardless of rut or heat, the firsts were important to know of. 

Both, Ignis recalled, came with signs of fever and flu. Feeling super-heated was not uncommon for both presentations and the physiological changes could be painful and last days. For the life of him though, he could not remember if an omega’s first heat or an alpha’s first rut came with it. 

Nor how intense either might be. 

He tossed and turned, sought to find comfort in his bed. Blankets were rucked up and pillows adjusted. It didn’t seem enough. 

Ignis also found himself pausing to take in the scent that flooded his room. He couldn’t smell himself, but he could tell from the heaviness in the air that there was enough pheromones that his apartment had to be saturated with scent and want. 

When the door cracked open, Ignis’ head snapped around with a desperate sound that he’d later deny. He stared at the door, and whined at the sight of Gladio in the doorway. 

He sucked in another deep breath, but smelled nothing but Gladio, and it was oddly bland at that. He whined and extended a hand for the other teen. 

“ -dio“ he choked out, “Gladio, please..” 

Gladio gave him a sympathetic look, but kept his distance. All the way across the room and Ignis found that to be very, very wrong. He wanted his friend closer, wanted him right where Ignis could reach him with ease. 

Where he could bury his nose against the warmth of his oldest friend and settle himself. Skin on skin, it would feel so very good he imagined. 

There must have been a look on his face that struck a chord within Gladio, because with a soft swear the Shield-to-be was crossing the dimly-lit bedroom. Ignis didn’t realize the happy croon that welled in his throat as his own voice. 

It took some wriggling, but the pair of them were snuggled down in the bed. Gladio wore his shirt and a pair of sweats. Ignis curled around the taller teen, his face tucked into the space just below Gladio’s jaw, and sucking in deep breaths. 

He was barely aware of the way he whined when there was no comforting scent that soothed the ache in his bones, or the heat that settled low in his gut.

There was little question of what fate had in store for him. It no longer mattered what he’d have preferred, genetics and life had deemed him ‘omega’. Soon enough far more embarrassing things would happen, that he’d gladly forget. 

Gladio’s arms curled around him, one hand swept up and down the length of Ignis’ back, soothing and comforting. 

Their legs tangled together beneath the sheets, and Ignis managed to doze unsteadily off again, despite the discomfort that ran beneath his skin. 

It would get worse, he knew.

***

The days that followed were full of things that Ignis would later bury deep in his mind. Partially due to the fact that he a desire, and worse, a need to be able to look Gladio in the eye in the coming years. He stripped his bed, and tried to ignore the stains and mess that were his sheets and blankets. 

He quietly pushed the fear away that he’d have to get an entirely new mattress. 

He pointedly didn’t think of the way the stains got there, nor the stench that clung to the fabric of his clothes and bedding. Ignis also ignored the way something in his gut swooped when it was indeed only himself he could smell in the room. It felt wrong that there was not another scent to be noted there. 

He did not think of Gladio. 

If he had to relive the memory of the way he rubbed himself shamelessly against his friend, begging for something he refused to dwell on for long, then he was going to expire. 

It would be sad and then the Crown would have to find someone else to try and keep their beloved Prince on schedule and informed. 

Needless to say, Ignis was grateful when he managed to finally emerge from his bedroom, after a shower so hot and thorough that his skin was still tinged pink from it. His legs felt week and as if he’d eaten next to nothing over the days he’d lost. 

To be fair though, Gladio had struggled to get him to finish the drinks he brought him, let alone a bite of food here or there. 

It was with no grace that he let himself fall onto his couch, opposite of the end Gladio had claimed as his own. It was clear from the blanket thrown haphazardly over the back of his sofa that it was where his friend had been spending his time. 

Ignis rubbed at his face, beneath his glasses. 

“ I-“ he started only for Gladio to kick him gently. 

“ If you’re gonna apologize, save it.” He warned him, not looking up from the book he was thumbing through. 

Ignis merely raised an eyebrow at him, unimpressed. 

“ I rather think it’s earned,” he replied dryly. 

Gladio shrugged and finally looked at him. He looked tired, Ignis thought, as if he’d gotten about as much sleep as Ignis had over the past few days. Guilt pricked at his nerves again. 

“ Save it for a rainy day,” he urged, as he closed the book with a quiet thump, “ not like I did anything more than make sure you didn’t get dehydrated.” 

Ignis snorted and settled into his spot more firmly. 

“ I distinctly remember you letting me paw at you like some sort of sex-fiend,” he noted, and he was sure there was a high and light blush on his cheeks, “ I rather think that deserves one.” 

Gladio sighed and tilted his head to press his cheek against his fist. 

“ Do we gotta have a conversation about it?” he asked, and for the first time Ignis realized that there was a blush on Gladio’s face as well. Ignis groaned and stole the blanket from the back of the couch to wrap around himself as he drew his legs up to curl beneath him. 

“ I suppose not.” He agreed. 

They sat in companionable silence before a thought occurred to Ignis. 

“ What about Noctis? If you and I have been holed up here for-“ 

“ four days.” Gladio supplied neatly. 

“-four days, then someone has to have had an eye on him.” He groaned, at the thought. 

Gladio grinned in a manner that normally had Ignis scowling at the Shield in disapproval or bracing himself for news that meant that his world was going to be taking some very sharp maneuvering to keep on course. 

“ It’s amazing what could happen if you put a couple of Glaives to shadow the kid, and what happens when his Dad realizes that a three-day week-end for his son means plenty of hands-on teaching time.” 

Ignis tried not to let the laugh he felt bubbling up escape. He failed. 

Noctis was a handful when he felt like it, and from what he understood, much like the King had been at his age. Despite there being a war to tend to, the King bore a great fondness for indulging his son when he could. 

“ How did you arrange to stay? What of your duties?” 

Gladio shrugged as if it weren’t surprising or touching. Perhaps the presentation hormones had yet to leave his system. Some proper research might have been due after this. 

“ Dad helped,” Gladio admitted, “ and your Uncle was relieved that you wouldn’t go through it alone. Got transcripts of the meetings you missed and everything.” 

Ignis felt a beat of desperate fondness for the people in his life. His uncle was a beta, and Ignis wasn’t sure the man would have known what to do when Ignis’ body had begun to pump out hormones that would signal him as an omega having reached proper age. 

Still, that left one very important question. Ignis had never encountered an omega or alpha presenting for the first time, so he wasn’t sure of what it must have smelled like. However, all he’d learned and read of implied that it was a difficult thing to merely walk away from. 

“ How did you manage to stay? After all, I must have been a mess of all sorts.” 

The blush darkened and Ignis rather wished that the ground was prone to opening up and swallowing people. 

“ Oh yeah,” Gladio agreed with a quiet grin, “ don’t feel too bad though, nobody presents without turning into a wreck one way or another.” 

Ignis had no response to that.

He rubbed at his forehead in a sheepish manner, “ I might have tried to put my dad through a wall when it happened to me.” 

Ignis huffed softly in amusement, eyebrows riding higher on his face in surprise. Gladio and his father got on fairly well, it was hard to imagine his friend trying to take on the older Alpha. Though he supposed instincts ran high and hard. 

“ That doesn’t answer my question, Gladiolus.” He chided gently, even as he sank into the couch further. 

“ Iggy, I’ve been on the strongest blockers I could since I presented,” Gladio finally admitted, “ Scents don’t mean much to me and I don’t put them out. “ 

He said it as if it were obvious, and perhaps it ought to have been. Ignis couldn’t recall ever picking up a blatant scent off of his friend even in the midst of sparring. That seemed desperately wrong on an instinctive level. 

Ignis stared at him hard, lips thinned in quiet disapproval. Blockers weren’t illegal, but they were easily ‘dangerous’ if not used properly. It was less uncommon for the nobility to use them, as it rendered them essentially betas while they flowed through one’s system. 

It wasn’t healthy, to be used all year around. Suppressants were safer, but far weaker. It was something he’d have to decide on later. 

It was Gladio’s whose shoulders hunched slightly under Ignis’ stare. “ Not your place to judge Iggy,” he told him, “ Dad and I had a long-ass talk about it when it happened. Easier to fly under the radar when people make assumptions.” 

Ignis could give him that. Insomnia was notorious for its people hiding away what they were for sake of easing their lives and trying to get the upper hand. 

Still. He couldn’t help but stare in quiet concern at the thought. He knew Gladio, and he knew the man hated to be out of sorts if he could ‘help’ it almost as much as Ignis did. 

Gladio finally tsk’ed in annoyance and rolled his eyes, even as he stood off the couch. Ignis felt a beat of remorse, of guilt. He was in no place to judge, least of all at the moment. He curled the blanket tighter around him. 

“ Relax Iggy,” he huffed, “ you haven’t eaten in a few days. Trust me when I say drinking isn’t enough to bring you back up to speed. I ain’t a chef, but I can heat up soup.” 

Ignis blinked at him, and watched the muscled teen pad into the kitchen. 

The guilt was still there, and an idle need and want to snuggle into the nearest warm body for a few more hours. 

It would pass, and he would acclimate. To everything.


	2. Gladio

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last pre-written chapter I got atm.

It wasn’t like it was unexpected, the outcome. It also wasn’t like Gladio had any issue with it, not really. Sure, did he want to present as omega? No, not particularly. Wanting something a whole lot though, or not wanting something, rarely made the thing come to pass, however.

Gladio didn’t have the soft, clean look that ‘ideal’ omegas had. He was tall, he was all hard edges, and he probably would have more muscle on him than some alphas could dream of when he was fully-grown. 

That didn’t mean he didn’t dread the snide comments or calculating gazes. Gladio was an Amicitia though, and he’d learned from a young age that anything anyone could use to try to jab and pick at him about, should be taken and owned. 

So he’d make everything someone would sneer at, his with brutal efficiency. 

So when his low-grade fever and piss-poor attitude had devolved into a blatant heat, he’d not really been surprised. If anything, he’d been frustrated by how seamlessly his father and Jared had acted when things became clear. 

They’d ensured he suffered through three, endless feeling days of wanting to fuck and having no reasonable outlet. Well, there was his fist, true, but after a few days his hand just didn’t cut it. Neither did his fingers, for that matter. 

He sure as hell hadn’t been in the mindset of asking his father for adult-like toys. Hell, in his normal head-space there was no way he could even think about bringing it up with any of his family without wanting to keel over from embarrassment. 

The need had slowly faded, the fire that had raged in his core had dimmed to embers. The sensitivity of his skin dialed back down, and he’d been able to smell the mess he’d made. His shower felt more like peeling off a layer of sweat, slick and dirt. Gladio didn’t think he’d ever had been as grateful for a shower as he had that one. 

Even with the worst of it all over, he’d still be so fucking tired. He’d crawled onto his bed, sans sheets and blankets, wearing a pair of sweat pants that were a little looser on him than they had been. 

Gladio was honest-to-Astrals surprised at how much he wanted nothing more than to hole up in his room and sleep again. 

It wasn’t as if he were going anywhere, his father had installed two different set of locks on his door, both inside and out, and he had no windows in his room. He understood why, he did, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to fuss about it later. 

It was a pity though, that his dad hadn’t taken an inventive eight year old into account when making sure that ‘everything would be alright’. 

Iris was all of eight years old when it happened. There had been no way that she could have known what could have happened. 

Gladio figured that she’d not seen him in a few days, and all of the hubbub would have gotten his attention at that age, so he figured it must have gotten hers. 

The moment the door cracked open, Gladio’s head had whipped around without his permission to stare at who the hell thought they could come and bug him now. His teeth were half-bared in warning if it was his father again, useless in this case, or even Jared who’d helped his father shut him away. 

Instead, the small, pale face of his sister appeared in the crack of the door. Her eyes lit up upon seeing him, and a smile that was fractured by a lost baby-tooth appeared just as quickly in her delight. 

”Gladdy!” she whispered happily. 

If it had been a few days ago, or a few more ahead, he would have turned her happy little ass around and told her to shut the damn door on her way out. Instead, he grinned back and gestured her towards him. His voice carried further than hers. 

It was all the incentive she needed to edge into the room fully, though she paused after a few short steps. Her little nose wrinkled at the smell of his room, and Gladio was pretty sure he agreed with the face she pulled. 

Gladio’s entire room stank like him. He’d given up showering when he’d realized the cold water did absolutely nothing to better the situation at hand. He’d taken a shower earlier that day, trying to work up the nerve and want to leave his room while he knew his father was still in the house. 

Because knowing his Pops, he’d want to talk about it, and that was not incredibly high on his list of ‘things-I-want-to-do’. 

“ Daddy said you didn’t feel good,” she whispered, like they were doing something they shouldn’t, “ and I know when I’m sick you always come make me feel better.” 

That was true. Gladio always made time for Iris when she was under the weather. Even if it normally meant he caught her cold or virus or whatever. He just didn’t think that it worked that way in reverse, this time. 

“ Jared made his famous stew,” Iris told him, “and I came to see if you’d come down stairs today?” She pulled her best ‘innocent’ look, made her eyes very wide and round in innocence. Gladio gave her a knowing look with a low grunt. 

“ Stole the key from dad?” he asked, and fuck his tongue felt thick in his mouth. 

Iris grinned at him with a nod. 

In the end it was Gladio’s inability to deny his sister anything. That, and being trapped in his room for the past days that made his skin itch. They snuck down the stairs, quietly as they could. 

Jared, Iris claimed, had left early for his wife’s birthday. Their father, was in his study talking to someone. Iris figured he was on the phone as she hadn’t heard a reply when she’d snuck by the room before. 

They were halfway to the kitchen when the sound of their father’s office door opening caught their ears. Both of them looked to one another with a slight smile, well a grin and a smile. 

Gladio’s smile lasted all of the time it took him to realize there was someone else in the house. Someone near-by, who smelled good. They could hear their voices, but Gladio took a deep breath, scenting what he could. He didn’t even register Iris’ surprised cry of his name as Gladio moved towards the doorway closest to his father’s office. 

He looked around the corner, and came to a dead stop. Talking to his father, was one of the captains within the Crownsguard, as if it were nothing at all. Which, Gladio admitted it might be had he not stepped forward with intent. 

“ Gladiolus?” Clarus asked with surprise as he turned, “ How did you-?” he cut himself off as he caught sight of Iris ducking back out of sight. Immediately, the alpha, ‘family’ his mind whispered with disgust, stepped in-between Gladio and the slowly-realizing Crownsguard. 

Gladio growled, low in his chest at his father. Because beyond his father’s shoulder, there was an alpha who could scratch every itch Gladio had, and would have. He knew the alpha was aware of him too, from the deep way the man said his name, to the smell of genuine arousal that wafted through the air. 

The scent, oh Gods, the scent had him growing slick again, like he had in the days just passed. The smell of Gladio’s slick, the smell of the alpha’s arousal, was a bomb waiting to go off. Gladio whined against his own will, low and soft, pleading. 

Because he’d never smelled anything as good as the Captain. He wanted to roll in that scent, wanted to get as close to it as he could until it was all he could smell on himself. The fire that had been dulled with time and lack of attention roared to life again. 

The Captain stood there, staring in both surprise and horrified lust. Gladio didn’t care if it was a natural reaction of an un-bonded alpha to the scent of an un-bonded omega, there was potential there. If he could figure a way around his father, then may be could convince the man to stay just a little longer. 

Then, his father betrayed him when he whirled on the captain with a threat on his lips and no patience to deal with an alpha eyeing his sixteen year old son. 

The Captain retreated reflexively, quickly fleeing the scene. No one with any sort of common sense was going to push their luck in that sort of scenario. 

Gladio saw red. 

“No!” 

He slammed into his father’s back, like a line-backer in a game. The pair of them went down in a tangled heap, with Gladio snarling and Clarus doing his best to not actually hurt his son in an attempt to pin him down. 

Punches were thrown, kicks poorly aimed, and insults thrown. It was a mess of instinctive grappling rather than any actual, proper fighting methods. In the end though, with a bleeding lip and what would be multiple bruises, including a black-eye, Gladio’s father pinned him. 

He gripped his wrist with one hand, twisting his arm up behind his back to the point where the pain was undeniable. To top it off, a heavy and calloused hand sat heavy on the back of his neck and pinned him as surely as the weight of his father did. 

Gladio snarled against the floor, head turned to glare at his father with as much force as he could muster. The older Shield didn’t as much as twitch, simply regarded him with a calm sort of regret that made Gladio want to buck him off and tear into him for. 

Who was his father to pity him?!

His father squeezed the back of his neck, a gesture that just days of go might have been a comfort and reminder of family and protection. Now though, and especially with his blood heated as it was, it meant something else. It meant ‘submit’ and ‘yield’. 

Instinct made it hard to fight, made him want to relax under the touch. Part of him recognized that it was his father’s protection in the touch too. Anyone outside of family, and Gladio would have been putty in their hands. 

It was hard to gauge time, but slowly, Gladio’s anger drained away. Instead of a growl, a low whine built in his throat, a noise that he choked off. 

His father’s grip loosened on his wrist and neck, and Gladio didn’t move immediately. He heard his father sigh and he wasn’t sure if it was in relief or not. 

“ Your mother was the same way,” his dad mused quietly, even as he slowly got off of Gladio’s thighs, tugged him back to his feet. Careful, Gladio noted, to never let go of him completely. 

He turned his head to blink at his father, brows furrowed in confusion. He’d known his mother was omega. Everyone had known she was, it wasn’t as if she’d made it a state secret. 

“ Demanding, volatile, and damn crafty when the mood took her.” 

It was said fondly, perhaps regretfully, though the raw agony of loss no longer under laid his words. Gladio wasn’t sure how he felt about being compared to his mother. Part of him felt a beat of joy. He’d gotten a great deal from his father, he knew. 

However, that went as far as looks for the most part. His father and he seemed to clash more and more the older he got, and for the life of him Gladio could not see where he’d gotten his temper. His mother though, had been loud and charming, vivacious and dominated a room anytime she chose to. 

“ Dad..” he mumbled and Clarus smiled at him, gently. Gladio only sort-of hated the way it made something in him want to preen. 

“ We’ll talk later, Gladio.” His father promised, “ Come, your bed I think is waiting and I have a daughter to speak to about thieving from her own father.” 

Gladio was helpless to do anything but follow along, the weight of his father’s arm over his shoulders like a guide, a reminder of the previous squabble.

****

“ You’re sure?” 

Gladio forced himself to meet his father’s gaze. He ignored the concern there, refused to think about it. It wasn’t the fact that he cared who might know of his new status. He didn’t give two shits. 

He was Noctis’ Shield come hell or high-water, and not even biology or opinionated pricks could dissuade him of that. 

“ Yeah,” he answered, gaze darting over his father’s impassive expression. He guessed he could understand his father’s reluctance, his doubt and worry. What he wanted to do wasn’t uncommon but it was normally only done in later years. 

Blockers were not only expensive, but controversial. Unlike simple suppressants though, it’d dull his sense of smell of others as well. There was no chance, or very little, that someone could wave their designation under his nose and drive him out of his head. 

It meant more visits to a doctor, sure, and deffinitly an adjustment period. 

“ Gladio, if this is about your presenting as an omega there are other-“ 

Gladio’s hands clenched into tight fists in his lap. 

“ It’s not.” He cut his father off. 

Clarus regarded him carefully, as if he disliked the denial more than what he would have an agreement. Part of Gladio wanted to yell at his father that he didn’t get it, didn’t understand. He wasn’t sure his father didn’t, though. After all, he’d been Gladio’s age once upon a time. 

“ What is it then?” 

Gladio stared over his father’s shoulder, and grit his teeth. He hated admitting his weaknesses. Even if his father didn’t particularly see them the same way he did. 

“ I can’t be like that again,” he finally muttered lowly, “ out of control, desperate like that.” He shook his head slowly, and shuddered at the thought. It would have been easy for someone to use him against his station if he’d been caught out. 

The thought that it could happen, that some ambitious or arrogant bastard would think to try, made something desperate erupt in his chest. 

He met his father’s gaze and was unsurprised by the empathy there. His father didn’t block like Gladio sought permission to do, but he suppressed his own nature as much as he could as well. Their jobs were not to be put second to instinct if it could be helped. 

For as long as Gladio could tell, the Amicitia family could always help. 

Gladio would not be Noctis weak link, not then and not ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Noctis' and Prompto's chapters will come after finals are over, or be pushed back until after graduation on Friday. I hate finals, gang.


	3. Noctis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finals and graduation are over!! Woo! Which means I can finally finish these last two chapters.

Noctis didn’t always spar with Ignis, but when he did, Ignis didn’t make it any easier on him than Gladio tended to. It made sense, he needed a cohesion between and with both men in the middle of a fight. However, every-time he worked with Ignis, he ended his day in pain and cursing both Adviser and Shield. 

Except for that particular day. Noctis wasn’t sure if he was faster, not likely, if he was simply improving, also not likely, or if it was freak accident. Because by some grace of the Astrals, Noctis had finally managed to pin the Adviser on the gym’s padded mat. 

It hadn’t been easy, and the pair of them were panting and out of breath. Sweating. It was kind of gross actually, and Noctis had been looking forward to a hot shower and enjoying the afternoon by sneaking out to meet up with Prompto under the guise of ‘studying’. 

Except, suddenly, that seemed a little less important than it had ten minutes go. 

Because Ignis smelled good. As in, good enough that Noctis considered licking a wet stripe up the other teen’s neck to see if he tasted as good as he smelled. He swallowed and fought the urge to do that. His hands tightened on Ignis’ arms, and put more weight on his knees, to stop the adviser from twisting away. 

“ Noctis,” Ignis started, and there was a look of concern on his face, but it was the uncertain tone to the single word that made Noctis’ breath hitch. 

Noctis _moaned_.

Noctis stared at Ignis. 

Ignis stared back. 

Noctis sucked in another deep breath, and he could _feel_ his pupils blow wide. Because he had always thought Ignis smelled good normally. It was his cologne, the hair gel, his body-wash, or whatever. Anytime he walked by or leaned in close, Noctis always seemed to get a good nose-full of his scent. 

‘Normally’. The feeling of being punch-drunk simply by getting a lungful of a smell so good he was pretty sure he was half-hard, wasn’t normal. 

Noctis licked his lips, and sucked in another greedy breath of air. Because if felt like he couldn’t get enough of the way Ignis smelled. He’d known the man had presented as Omega a few years before. Noctis had been fourteen, and at the time his imagination had run wild. He’d had a few months where looking the older boy in the eye had been damn near impossible. 

That had been two years ago. Noctis had thought he’d had a little bit more control than what he was exhibiting, but apparently not. 

Ignis swallowed again. Noctis’ eyes tracked the motion of his adam’s apple bobbing with the action. Part of him damned the fact that the older boy didn’t block scent and designation like Gladio did. Suppress, yes, almost everyone did. That mean though that there was still a scent of ‘omega’ about him. 

Normally, nothing more than a gentle reminder. At that moment, it felt like the smell filled the entire gym. 

“ Noctis, get off of me.” The words sounded like they were from a distance, and easily ignored. He could see the adviser meant it, that he would _make_ him if he had to. He should definitely move. 

Noctis didn’t want to, though. He liked right where he was, liked _Ignis_ right where he was. Under him, on his back, and smelling so _good_. 

“ No.” 

With that, he gave in to temptation and leaned down and licked a hot stripe up the other man’s neck. Had followed a bead of sweat that had dripped down. Whined in the back of his throat because Ignis tasted better than he smelled, better than any sweet treat that Ignis had ever put in front of him. 

He felt a tiny shiver of victory at the way his friend’s breathing hitched just so. He pulled back just enough to get a better look at Ignis’ face, to gauge his reaction-

Ignis cracked his head into Noctis’. Slammed them together. 

Pain exploded through his head and he was vaguely aware of the shout of surprise he made. Ignis shoved him away and rolled to his feet with the grace of cat. 

Put distance between them, took the sweet smell of him with the action. 

Noctis held his head and glared at the older teen resentfully. To be fair, Ignis looked as dazed as Noctis felt, and that was some sort of compensation. Gladio had always warned him them going around and smacking your head into someone else’s was damn stupid. A last resort, or a last ‘fuck you’ to whoever had a hold of you. 

“ Noct-” Ignis started again and the Prince felt a growl rising up in his chest. Not one that was associated with kids and play, but a real growl. Like the noise he’d heard his father’s Shield make once or twice, threatening and dangerous. 

Ignis stared at him like he was a puzzle. One that he couldn’t touch yet had to solve all the same. 

_” Ignis,”_ he growled, demanded. Because he still wanted to roll in that scent, or to better yet, make Ignis smell more like him. That option seemed like the best. He rolled to his feet, staggering just slightly as his world swam oddly. 

He took a step forward, and his tongue flicked out to wet his lips. Liked to imagine he could taste his adviser in the air. 

Something seemed to click behind Ignis’ eyes, because where they were once wary and pained, a glint of realization sat. Then, they roamed over him, seeking something. Noctis jerked his head higher, and did his best to paint a picture of worth. 

Because if he couldn’t pin the other man, then maybe he could entice him back. It was entirely possible he may not have been thinking clearly anymore. Somehow, that didn’t matter.

Ignis took a step back, and Noctis stepped forward. 

“ Not here, Noctis.” The words were low, perhaps flirtatious to Noctis’ ears. 

It made sense, and really, Noctis didn’t want anyone else to see the way he was going to make Ignis look. Ignis turned on his heel and strolled away, quickly, and Noctis lurched after him. They went down the back-halls, through the servants’ corridors. Out of the eyes of anyone who might make comment or pass it on. 

Before he knew it, the doors to his personal rooms were swinging open and Ignis looked at him over his shoulder, green eyes glinting behind his glasses. Noctis following willingly. 

His hand reached out, just close enough to brush his fingers over the white fabric of the under-shirt Ignis had been wearing for their sparing match. Ignis turned, and caught his wrist, in a deceptively strong grip. Noctis’ expression must have lit up with some hope, or he was practically purring in delight, because there was the smallest of smiles on Ignis’ face. 

If he had been in his right mind, Noctis might have realized that was the one smile that he shouldn’t have trusted. Because that was the smile Ignis gave someone, before he turned the tables in his favor. 

Which was why, he made a startled noise when he was yanked into the bedroom of this royal apartment, only to be twisted and twirled away from the sweet-smelling adviser-slash-friend. Manipulated until his attempts to get a hold of the taller teen resulted in nothing. 

Nothing, however, except for the shirt that Ignis had been wearing hanging tight in Noctis’ fisted hand. Noctis stared, because how had the other man gotten so far away, all the way at the door to the bedroom and Noctis at the foot of the bed, so quickly?

Ignis gave him a look of apology and something that wasn’t quite pity. 

Noctis lunged, and Ignis slammed the double-doors to the room, locking them neatly.

***

Noctis slammed a hand against the door, anger bubbling like a sick tar in his chest. The noise of the ‘bang’ made him feel slightly better, so he did it twice more before the ache in his hand outweighed the damage it was going to the door. Which was none at all.

He fell to pacing the room, too anxious to settle, and too frustrated with himself to allow himself to calm down. Which was why when the door cracked open, his head shot up in a desperate sort of hope. Ignis? His mind whispered, hopefully. He scented the air before he realized just what he was doing.

There was a hint of the omega, a dull nothing that to be Gladio, and the idea that the man was there made a deep growl echo in his chest. There was some quiet swearing, before someone was shoved in like an offering. 

He felt his face light up in hope, in hope that maybe they’d let him-

Prompto stood there. 

Trembled and glanced towards the closed door. Noctis felt his face fall. 

Noctis stood there. Eyed Prompto with an intensity that was reserved for the way he eyed something that stood between him and something he wanted. Mildly dismissive and disappointed. 

Finally, Prompto cleared his throat, and shifted his weight from one foot to the other. Noctis didn’t waver his stare from his friend. Who looked increasingly uncomfortable. 

“ H-hey buddy, they thought I’d, uh, be the safest pick?” He managed to get out. 

“ Safest pick?” Noctis asked, and found that he didn’t sound as annoyed as he probably ought to have been. 

Prompto shrugged helplessly, and didn’t make an attempt to step forward or anything. Which made Noctis wonder why the hell they’d shoved him into the room in the first place. It seemed pointless to offer him up for proverbial sacrifice. 

“ Well, I mean, you were kinda intent on Iggy apparently,” Prompto offered, scratching at the back of his neck, like he really didn’t want to think about exactly what _that_ entailed. 

Noctis didn’t answer. Prompto cleared his throat uncomfortably. 

“ Not to mention your Dad probably wouldn’t want a bunch of grandbabies, running around in a few months either. “ 

Noctis scoffed and finally sank onto the edge of his bed. He was hard, that much was obvious, and he either wanted to fight or fuck. It didn’t particularly matter at the moment, but Prompto didn’t deserve either of those responses. 

Partially because he smelled as bland as a beta, and partially because he was Noctis’ best friend and grinding against him to get off was about as appealing as picturing his father’s entire council naked. Which was to say, not at all. 

“ I wouldn’t fuck my way through the palace,” he snapped, “ and you still haven’t answered my question.” 

Prompto groaned and looked like he sort of wanted to die right then and there. 

“ Apparently, you’re in the early stages of rut. Which is why you tried to get handsy with Ignis, and why you’re stuck here for a few days. “ He shrugged boney shoulders, “ Ignis called and asked me to make sure you knew what was going on, and I wasn’t just gonna say _no_. They figured you’d listen to me, and not try to-” He made a semi-complicated hand-gesture that he thought might have implied fucking or fighting, “-like with Specs or Gladio.” 

Noctis would probably feel a beat of affection for his friend later. Because it took true friendship to do something like this. He guessed. He sniffed, and an annoyed noise bubbled up in the back of his throat. Because there wasn’t much of a trace of any scent on his friend outside of what there normally was. 

“ I kinda figured that, actually. It’s not like it takes a genius to figure it out, I took health class too.” Noctis snapped, and his hands curled into fists, because he could feel the frustration growing in his veins, building and building. It made him want to..to do _something_ and he wasn’t sure that he wouldn’t do it to Prompto for much longer. 

It wasn’t like it was hard to guess, with the way it felt like fire was curling through his veins with no way out. 

“ Yeah well, we weren’t sure how deep you were-“ he started and cut himself off, a fierce blush blooming on his face. “ Apparently it’s easy to forget things, the way people talk about it.” 

Noctis made an impatient sound, hands clenching reflexively, and it felt like his skin was growing too tight by the minute. 

“ I’m fine. It’s fine. Dad’ll be _thrilled_.” He sounded sarcastic to his own ears, dismissive, and he couldn’t stop. “ Run back to _Gladio_ and Ignis, let them know their precious Prince isn’t as ignorant as you guys think.”

That earned him a quiet flinch. Noctis almost felt bad, but it was so very _hard_ to when Prompto wasn’t what he wanted. Couldn’t be, what he wanted. 

Prompto frowned at him. His mouth quirked at the corner, a look of mild and annoyed disapproval, along with his shoulders hunched as they were. It annoyed Noctis on the best of days, because that look meant that he was resisting the urge to say something. Even after years of friendship the blond still stopped himself from opening his mouth for whatever reason. 

“ Right. So. Yeah. I’ll just tell the guys you got it, and yeah. “ 

He stepped back, and Noctis _almost_ felt bad. Knew he would later. Couldn’t quite bring himself to care properly. 

The door clicked closed behind Prompto’s escape, and Noctis flopped back onto his bed. Stared at the ceiling with all the vengeful anger he could muster. Realized he still had something in his hand and felt some of that tension uncurl in his stomach when he realized what it was. 

Ignis’ shirt. 

He wasn’t aware of bringing it to his nose until he buried his face in the scent-saturated fabric, and he groaned brokenly. He couldn’t really bring himself to care if they heard him outside of the room.

He’d worry about having to look Ignis in the eye after everything was over.

***

Prompto tugged the door shut behind him, and tried to ignore the way he heard Noctis fucking _groan_ what might have been Ignis’ name. Because it was logical, Ignis was the only presented Omega that Noctis had smelled.

At least that was what he told himself, trying to push back years of conversations and awkward walk-in’s, even drunken confessions. 

“ He _reeks_.” 

That was the first thing Prompto said when he stepped out of their mutual friend and Prince’s room. Gladio snorted a laugh, and Ignis scowled fiercely at the Shield. 

“ Yes well, “ Ignis started as he pushed his glasses up further on his nose, “ it’s not as if he can control it at the moment. “ 

Prompto didn’t really want to know. Because he really would rather forget that he had to meet his friend’s eyes while he sported a raging hard-on and smelled like fighting or fucking. It had made him want to gag the moment he’d stepped into the room, from the sheer overwhelming scent. 

It had been like walking into a brick wall. 

“ He’s not happy, either.” 

Gladio snorted again. Prompto was sort of getting tired of the noise. 

“ No, I imagine he isn’t,” Ignis replied, far kinder than what Prompto expected, “ such things as these are rarely enjoyable, no matter what your body demands.” 

He met the adviser’s gaze briefly, and the look of knowing there made him want to sort of climb under a rock and never ever leave it. Because he didn’t know if he was talking about his own experiences, or seemed to think he knew more than he did, and Prompto didn’t want an answer to the question that hung around. 

He glanced back towards the door when there was a low groan heard. 

“ He’ll be fine,” he looked back towards the other two, “right?” 

Gladio shrugged and nodded. 

“ He’ll be fine, Prompto. Everyone goes through this eventually, don’t worry.” 

Prompto wanted to believe him. He _did_. 

“ Iggy and me aren’t gonna let the Princess drop dead just because he’s hard as a rock and itching for a fight. “ Gladio pointed out, and Prompto did his best to not feel like he was being talked down to, just barely, “ It’d sort of defeat our purpose wouldn’t it?” 

Prompto resisted the urge to knot his fingers together. Tried not to let his own worries sweep him away, and keep his mind occupied with other thoughts. 

“ Yeah. You’d definitely be out of jobs, that’s for sure.” 

Ignis offered him a small smile as he hummed an agreement. 

“ You’re welcome to stay Prompto, as always. You’re close as either of us are, and I’m sure Noct wouldn’t object to your hanging around for when he gets to the other side of this.” 

Prompto wanted to say ‘sure, sounds great’, he’d opened his mouth to and everything. Except he didn’t, couldn’t, and what was worse was there was no way in seven hells he’d ever tell the other two men why. Because they trusted him, and it had felt like it had taken forever to convince them he was after nothing but Noct’s friendship in the first place. 

“ Nah,” he managed, “ parents are supposed to get in tonight, and they promised we could go out to eat. A celebration, y’know? For my birthday.” It wasn’t a lie, they _had_ promised. 

It was just that they weren’t supposed to be home for the better part of a week, yet. 

Prompto didn’t miss the way Ignis frowned, nor the way that he was sure Gladio’s gaze sharpened on him. That was the bad thing about making friends he figured, especially ones that knew his birthday had been the better part of a month ago. 

Ignis had made him a cake and everything, and with the gifts and friends it had felt just like a real party. Like he’d always thought a birthday should have felt like every-time. 

“ Call me though?” he asked hopefully, “I don’t wanna miss the embarrassment.” He grinned cheekily, and Gladio gave him a high-five on the way past him. 

“ Hell no, wouldn’t want His Highness to escape unscathed from this.” A grin passed between the two, and Ignis clicked his tongue in disapproval. 

Prompto said his farewells, bid them good-bye with promises to text him if they needed him. He made it all the way home and closed the front door behind him before he let the tears well up and blur his vision. 

He was grateful the house was dark and empty. No one to ask him ‘what was wrong’, or to smile for anyone until his face hurt. Prompto bit the inside of his cheek until it bled, but a few tears tracked down his cheeks. 

He was such a fucking idiot. He should have known better than to fall in love with his best friend, even when he knew explicitly where said friend’s emotions were. He had hoped, though. This didn’t confirm it, he knew, but it didn’t hurt less than it did any time before. 

In the fairy-tales, love was always answered eventually. 

Life wasn’t a fairy-tale though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who likes some unrequited love? This girl. Because who can choose who to fall in love with, even if they know they shouldn't? Prompto has been in it pretty deep for Noct for awhile, but he's also known that Noct has been sort of hella crushin' on Ignis for years. Good friends don't make moves on friends who aren't interested. It's not polite, and it's a good way to get your heart smashed.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed guys! As always, comments and kudos are loved!


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